interesting about him. She said he was very down to earth; he doesn’t even have a driver. When Alice’s dad had a heart attack, she found out he paid for the surgery and hospital stay, even though he went to great lengths to cover it up. Apparently, he is an extremely private person who doesn’t like to draw any attention to himself.”
Our dishes arrive so we stop talking and start digging into the food. We talk about Jasmine, our little sister who’s a senior in high school. Miraculously, I manage to steer her away from the topic of Thanksgiving. I know I won’t be able to hold off much longer as it’s only three weeks from now, but I’m planning to conjure up a last-minute excuse like I do each year.
We finish dinner later than I expect, and I speed back to the campus for my evening meeting with The 99. When I walk into the classroom, it’s already packed. The chairs are set out in a circle as usual, but contrary to our usual weekly meetings, all seats are taken. Another semi-circle of chairs placed behind the circle is also full. Since I’ve joined The 99, I’ve never seen so many people in any of our meetings. Then I remember Adam called this special public meeting straight after our protest to attract potential new members. It is one thing to hear how successful our campaign has been, but another to see more than fifty people hanging on his every word.
I grab a chair at the back of the room and place it so I have a good view of Adam, who is seated in the inner circle. Mark, who sits about three chairs to his right, winks at me, but I pretend I don’t notice. In his usual passionate fashion, Adam talks about what The 99 stands for and why we oppose the one per cent of the population that holds the majority of wealth.
“What we do is not just talk and complain, we take action. Many of you came today because our latest protest has struck a chord with you. We’re planning a lot more of those in the future, targeting that one per cent of repulsive looters who grab all the money for themselves. Together, we’ll make them pay!” Adam throws up his fist, and the regulars cheer.
A deep male voice asks, “But what if that one per cent actually helps? Look at what Bill Gates has done to eradicate polio in the Third World.”
Oh no. That voice…it slices through me like a searing knife, sending chills up my spine. What the hell is Ryder doing here? I move my chair and angle it to get a better view at the inner circle.
Yeah, it’s him all right, slouched backwards on his chair, legs spread out. Wearing a black turtleneck on a pair of worn jeans, dark hair mussed, he looks positively hot.
Unable to shift my gaze from him, I hear Mark’s nasal, whiny voice. “Yeah, but how many Bill Gates are there? Most of them care shit for everyone else, only for themselves.”
“Does that even matter? Fewer people are dying of polio because of him.”
“You can’t possibly believe—hey, don’t I know you?”
Mark jumps up and points at Ryder. “I know you. I’ve seen you before…yeah, you were with Rosenberg at the breakfast meeting. You’re that billionaire fund manager.”
Ryder lifts a dark brow. “So what if I am?”
“Why would someone like you attend this meeting?”
“I thought this is a public meeting. Didn’t he,” he says, cocking his head to Adam, “say everyone is welcome here?”
“Yeah, but he also explained that we are The 99. You’re clearly not part of us . You’re the one per cent he was talking about. One of the looters. You shouldn’t be here.”
“Why? Maybe I want to find out more. Maybe I want to get involved.”
“To do what, spy on us? So you can throw your money at shutting us down?”
His contorted face beet-red, Mark takes a step towards Ryder, who rises from his seat. Although only a few inches shorter, Mark looks scrawny in comparison.
“Are you trying to make fun of us? Huh?” Mark pushes him hard in the chest with both hands, but Ryder
Our dishes arrive so we stop talking and start digging into the food. We talk about Jasmine, our little sister who’s a senior in high school. Miraculously, I manage to steer her away from the topic of Thanksgiving. I know I won’t be able to hold off much longer as it’s only three weeks from now, but I’m planning to conjure up a last-minute excuse like I do each year.
We finish dinner later than I expect, and I speed back to the campus for my evening meeting with The 99. When I walk into the classroom, it’s already packed. The chairs are set out in a circle as usual, but contrary to our usual weekly meetings, all seats are taken. Another semi-circle of chairs placed behind the circle is also full. Since I’ve joined The 99, I’ve never seen so many people in any of our meetings. Then I remember Adam called this special public meeting straight after our protest to attract potential new members. It is one thing to hear how successful our campaign has been, but another to see more than fifty people hanging on his every word.
I grab a chair at the back of the room and place it so I have a good view of Adam, who is seated in the inner circle. Mark, who sits about three chairs to his right, winks at me, but I pretend I don’t notice. In his usual passionate fashion, Adam talks about what The 99 stands for and why we oppose the one per cent of the population that holds the majority of wealth.
“What we do is not just talk and complain, we take action. Many of you came today because our latest protest has struck a chord with you. We’re planning a lot more of those in the future, targeting that one per cent of repulsive looters who grab all the money for themselves. Together, we’ll make them pay!” Adam throws up his fist, and the regulars cheer.
A deep male voice asks, “But what if that one per cent actually helps? Look at what Bill Gates has done to eradicate polio in the Third World.”
Oh no. That voice…it slices through me like a searing knife, sending chills up my spine. What the hell is Ryder doing here? I move my chair and angle it to get a better view at the inner circle.
Yeah, it’s him all right, slouched backwards on his chair, legs spread out. Wearing a black turtleneck on a pair of worn jeans, dark hair mussed, he looks positively hot.
Unable to shift my gaze from him, I hear Mark’s nasal, whiny voice. “Yeah, but how many Bill Gates are there? Most of them care shit for everyone else, only for themselves.”
“Does that even matter? Fewer people are dying of polio because of him.”
“You can’t possibly believe—hey, don’t I know you?”
Mark jumps up and points at Ryder. “I know you. I’ve seen you before…yeah, you were with Rosenberg at the breakfast meeting. You’re that billionaire fund manager.”
Ryder lifts a dark brow. “So what if I am?”
“Why would someone like you attend this meeting?”
“I thought this is a public meeting. Didn’t he,” he says, cocking his head to Adam, “say everyone is welcome here?”
“Yeah, but he also explained that we are The 99. You’re clearly not part of us . You’re the one per cent he was talking about. One of the looters. You shouldn’t be here.”
“Why? Maybe I want to find out more. Maybe I want to get involved.”
“To do what, spy on us? So you can throw your money at shutting us down?”
His contorted face beet-red, Mark takes a step towards Ryder, who rises from his seat. Although only a few inches shorter, Mark looks scrawny in comparison.
“Are you trying to make fun of us? Huh?” Mark pushes him hard in the chest with both hands, but Ryder
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